


Like a Diamond in the Sky

by denynothing1



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-25
Updated: 2006-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denynothing1/pseuds/denynothing1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When cultivating friendship, a little fertilizer never hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Diamond in the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Thelma & Louise Gal/Pal Ficathon organized by thassalia and leadensky.
> 
> Timeline: Pre-series

The high school looms at the mid point of a terraced slope, one step down from the growl of the freeway, one step above the ocean's roar. Beyond those horizons are celebrated places, charmed and exotic, everything Neptune is not. High school is the first hurdle on the way out of town, and Veronica wants so badly to join the race she isn't afraid to jump the gun.

Much.

"Well, well, what do we have here? Are you lost, little girl?"

"God, Shelley, classy. You sound like a Black's Beach pervert."

Veronica dips her head and pretends harder to look like she knows where she's going. The gaudy flock of older girls is clustered over take out boxes at a corner table in the lower level of the quad. The breeze that wafts from the ocean picks up the scent of pad Thai and money. From the corner of her eye, Veronica notes that her heckler is dark haired, while the girl with the oh-niner drawl is blonde and looks bored to tears. 

Veronica shifts her book bag and continues on, using the comforting weight of _The Raymond Chandler Omnibus_ as a shield. Chandler's dead. He won't mind.

Soft chatter follows her as she reaches the steps leading to the upper level. Over the rest, the blonde's voice is loud and exasperated. "I have no idea who she is, but she's too small to bother with. Throw her back in and find somebody your own size, Lameroy." A cresting wave of high-pitched giggles chases Veronica up the stairs. At the top, she glances at the folded map cupped in her palm and tries to figure out which nondescript beige building houses summer school Freshman English.

***

"Veronica Mars."

Two weeks into the session, the only person to say her name in this place that was supposed to launch her towards the rest of her dazzling, Neptune-free life is a teacher. Even if they all know perfectly well who she is. Daughter of the sheriff, junior high phenom, taking summer school classes to get the jump on Freshman year. She's _real_ popular. Veronica feels the stares as she rises. She smoothes out the page of notebook paper and tries to stop her hands from shaking.

Mr. Sullivan likes to keep them off balance, or maybe he just didn't feel like making up a standard pop quiz on "Killer in the Rain" last night. They've had the time it took for his "Limehouse Blues" CD to play to write an opening paragraph, Chandler style. For the last twenty-three minutes, with his feet up on his desk and his hands behind his head, it's been summertime and the livin's been easy for Mr. Sullivan. The smug sadist.

_"The boulevard is wide, wider than tourists expect, and the sidewalks are covered with stars,"_ Veronica begins. Her voice is too soft. She coughs and ups the volume. _"Not the kind that drift across movie palace screens, loving and laughing and weeping and dying to the syncopated sound of a ragtime piano. These stars are made of granite and bronze. During the day they bake in the pitiless sun; at night they glow in the boulevard lights. Each one has a story to tell. The kid I'm looking for came out here from Kansas a week ago. Like so many others, she dreamed of a star that would someday tell her story. I've been doing this a while and my gut is giving me that old, familiar, feeling. She's going to be disappointed."_

"Excellent, Miss Mars." Mr. Sullivan's teeth gleam through his salt and pepper beard. Veronica feels the target on her back grow brighter as she sinks down behind her desk. "Miss Kane, you're up."

Lilly Kane, oh-niner crown princess and unexpected defender of junior high minnows, rises from her seat. Since that first day on the quad, she's roundly ignored Veronica, but then, so have her evil minions. Veronica is torn between gratitude and trepidation, betting that for small fry like her, loneliness just a lull between feeding frenzies. 

Lilly stands and snaps her folded paper open. "It was a dark and stormy night--"

The room erupts. 

"Wrong era, Miss Kane. Thanks for playing." Mr. Sullivan doesn't even break a sweat as he drowns out all the other voices in the room. "Mr. Warren, you're next."

"Wait, wait, Mr. Sullivan." Lilly is still standing. She flips her hair over her shoulder and flashes an unrepentant smile. "I didn't actually write an opening paragraph." 

"No?" Mr. Sullivan has heard it all. Veronica can tell by how deft he is at doling out rope to students making excuses.

"No, I wrote an _ending_ paragraph. An ending scene, really."

"Well, that's a novel approach, Miss Kane. Let's hear it."

Lilly clears her throat. _"The last time I saw Simone, she was sitting at the bar in the Continental Club, unfocused eyes on the speckled mirror, unfinished scotch in her hand."_ Lilly has dropped her voice to a dramatic baritone. _"Her gaze sharpened when she saw my reflection. She took a drag on her cigarette and turned my way._

_"'I've heard those things are bad for your voice,' I said._

Lilly's tone slides up to a seductive purr. _"'So's dying,' she said and blew a stream of smoke over my shoulder. 'I owe you one.'_

_"I gave her a short nod and wished for a moment it was sweet Mary Brown from, uh… Kansas…"_ Lily bites her lip, then tosses her hair back again and continues, _"Kansas City giving me those thanks. But I'd managed to save Simone from the fate that had befallen Mary Brown, and in this town, breaking even is a better ending than most._

_"Simone slid from the barstool and said, 'I sing here most nights from nine til midnight. You should come see me sometime.'_

_"'Sure thing,' I lied._

_"I watched her walk toward the stage, her hips swinging a sexy so-long."_

Lilly pauses and smiles as the class breaks into muffled, juvenile laughter at the emphasis she puts on the word, 'sexy.'

_"Outside the club, the stars on the sidewalk glittered under my feet, heedless that their-- heedless that the names Mary Brown and Simone de B-- Breton would never be a part of their legendary constellation of fame. The End."_ Lilly finishes things off with a dramatic sigh.

Veronica glances over at the piece of paper in Lilly's hands. It's blank, apart from a drawing of a five-pointed star with an old-fashioned movie camera at its center and, "Lillian Kane," written across it.

"Not bad, Miss Kane. A little… derivative, perhaps, but I liked the different voices. Kansas City is in Missouri, by the way." Mr. Sullivan sounds more amused than he has for past two weeks. Veronica is willing to bet he knows exactly what's not on that piece of paper. "Since you and Miss Mars seem to literally be on the same page, why don't you fill in the middle and finish the story? Together."

Lilly, in the process of smirking over at Madison Sinclair, whips back around. "But Mr. Sullivan--"

"You have four weeks till the end of term, Miss Kane." He turns and smiles at Veronica. "Miss Mars." Turning back to Lilly, he says, "I'm in the mood to hand out bonus points if you do a good job, Miss Kane. Just think, if you keep writing like this, you might not have to come back here next summer. It would be like a vacation. For both of us."

To the rest of the room, he continues, "In fact, let's make this a project for everyone. Pair up and finish whichever story you like best. They're due on the last day of class. We'll call this the Brainstorming Bonus Project. Be prepared to discuss how you made it work."

As hostile whispers rise, Veronica wonders if it would be overly dramatic for her to walk to the window at the back of the room and pitch herself out of it. They're on the ground floor, which means the worst that could happen would be grass stains on her white peasant blouse and bougainvillea stickers in her hair. Still, she's tempted.

***

"Oh gross!" Lilly leaps up from the lounge chair, shakes her hair and sweeps her hands down her bare midriff. 

Veronica jumps out of her own chair, shocked out of a dull meditation on how long it will take Mom to get over here to pick her up and how disappointed Daddy will be when she informs him she isn't going to ace out all the losers in summer session Freshman English after all. 

The annoying, awkward duet of squeaky giggles and baritone guffaws that bounces off the concrete pool deck is coming from two boys in baggy shorts and Quicksilver tees.

"Aww, what's the matter, Lillyvanilli? A little souvenir from Windansea never hurt anyone." The speaker's hair is wild, sun-bleached at the ends and sticking out in every direction. There's a smile of pure, evil joy on his face. 

The dark-haired boy behind him is smiling too. Smiling at Veronica, she realizes, too late to pretend she isn't staring. 

"Fuck you, Logan." Lilly is stomping her feet to get rid of the sand on her legs.

"Ooh, baby, any time." Logan (Echolls, Veronica realizes) brushes a jaunty hand through his hair and breezes toward the glass doors leading to the kitchen. He gives Veronica a through inspection as he passes by. "Bring your friends."

"I'm guessing Mom isn't here, or you wouldn't have said that, Lilly." 

"If she were here I would've said it louder."

The dark-haired boy is still looking at Veronica. "Hi."

"Hi," Veronica says, brilliantly. She knows who he is, too. And it's as certain as Johnny Mañana's serves the best carnitas in town that he can't say the same.

"I'm Duncan." He's standing in front of her and he's very tall. For a horrifying moment, Veronica wonders if he's going to shake her sweaty hand, or worse, pat her on the head. "Aren't you-- I've seen you before… um. Right?"

"Right." She's hot, she's embarrassed and she's losing bonus points in Freshman English by the minute. The patience required to state the obvious to the oblivious is long gone, no matter how cute he is. "We were in eighth grade American History together. All last year. I'm the one who made Ms. Anderson cry on the last day of class when I told her the only good thing about history is we get to re-write it." 

A crack of laughter comes through the open back door, followed by, "Dude, she was on the girl's soccer team."

Veronica helpfully gathers her hair into a ponytail high on her head.

"Oh." Now Duncan is laughing too, white teeth and ocean blue eyes. "You didn't make Ms. Anderson cry, you made her laugh. I knew I knew you."

To Veronica's surprise, Lilly walks up beside her and slings an arm around her shoulders. "God, Donut, you are utterly hopeless. For your information, this is Veronica and we're doing a project for English. Veronica, Duncan is my little brother." Lilly glares at the wild-haired boy leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, holding a Mountain Dew. "The sea slug over there is Logan."

Logan raises his Dew in a lazy salute and looks them both up and down, eyes bright.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll ignore them. God knows, I do." Lilly pulls her toward the house. "Let's go back to my room. I'm going to have to take a shower to get all this sand off."

"Hey, if you need any help with tha-- ow!" 

Veronica grabs her book bag as Lilly sweeps her past a doubled-over Logan. Her mind flashes to that page in her eighth grade notebook -- the one with, "Mrs. Veronica Kane," "Veronica Mars Kane" and "Ms. Veronica Mars-Kane" written all over it -- and she wonders why no one ever told her that meeting your dream face to face can actually be liberating. Duncan Kane is just a boy. A slightly sweaty, slightly awkward boy. And she can make him smile. At her. In a good way. A giddy feeling of power bubbles up into an uncontrolled giggle. 

Lilly glances back over her shoulder, eyes sparkling. "Oh, are we having fun now, Veronica Mars?"

***

Sleek as an otter and smelling like star jasmine, Lilly is lounging on the lacy white duvet covering her enormous, four-poster bed. Her tiny silk kimono is an incongruous splash of red and gold in this pastel room. "If you're so good at getting to teachers, how come you never make Mr. Sullivan laugh?" 

"I'm pretty sure he's laughing on the inside." Veronica is wandering restlessly, wondering just how many pink ostriches died to make the boa hanging from the dresser mirror. She'd love to repeat her memorable American History performance, but she's certain it only happened because she was on a sugar high. The homeroom mother's bake sale was that day. Veronica had bought all her mother's lopsided efforts, driven by the critical need to disappear as many as possible before her classmates figured out whose mother decorated cupcakes with faces made of olive slices, pickled baby corn and pimento strips. 

She looks at her watch and notes that they only have half an hour before Mom comes to pick her up. Veronica wants to make sure she meets her outside, before she can get to the front door. Spurred by that thought, she reasons if she can make the boy laugh, she can make the girl work. She cranks up her newfound self confidence. "Look, why don't we rough out an outline--"

Lilly groans and flops on her back. She drops a dramatic hand across her eyes. "We have four weeks! Why don't we wait till the last minute and stay up all night and smoke and drink coffee and finish it then? We can call it practice for the Ivy League."

" _You're_ planning on going to an Ivy League college?" The words are out before Veronica realizes it.

Lilly rolls over and gives her a speculative look that soon turns into a grin. "Not so sweet after all, are we, little Veronica?

"God, I'm sorry. I just meant--"

Lilly props herself up on one hand and holds out the other in a graceful gesture that stops Veronica dead in her tracks. She can't decide how serious Lilly is; if she's angry or amused -- she can't tell anything at all. Lilly looks like a 30s-style ingénue, going for broke at an audition. Just like this afternoon in class, it's pure performance. " _Please_ don't apologize. You lose all the points you scored for being bitchy. Hasn't anyone taught you _anything_?" She tucks her legs under her, sits back on her heels and gives Veronica an assessing look. "My mother wants me to go to Vassar. It's her alma mater."

"That's… a great school," Veronica says cautiously. "Academically."

"Is it? I couldn't care less. From what I've heard, the best thing about it is that you can become an instant lesbian there. My mother will _die_." Lilly leans forward and props her chin on her hands. She lowers her voice. "I'm thinking about a nice flannel shirt and a pair of work boots to start. Maybe a brush cut? Dyed black?" She pulls her hair back off her face. 

Veronica folds her arms across her chest and is torn between smiling and starting a lecture on political correctness.

"Not enough? Maybe I could just pretend to go into a decline from homesickness when I get there, eat a lot of junk food, gain fifty pounds and buy smock dresses from K-Mart. That way I won't have to cut my hair."

Veronica can't help it. She collapses on the fluffy white rug at the foot of the bed, laughing. "There are so many things wrong with you, I don't know where to start." 

Lilly leans over the edge of the bed and grins at Veronica, upside down. "Took your mind off the stupid outline, didn't I?"

***

Mondays are the worst, Veronica decides. Monday is the day when one has had a whole weekend to ponder life, the universe and high school popularity. The results are never pretty.

This particular Monday is the one after a weekend of ping ponging from the thrill of a whole half hour spent as confidant and straight man to the one and only Lilly Kane to the surety that Veronica is being set up for humiliation on a spectacular scale. A judicious combination of emo music and a pint of Cherry Garcia has helped the process along to the point where Monday morning finds her standing in front of her closet, trying to decide which outfit is best suited for walking the plank, Neptune style (white tank top, blue and white striped seersucker Capris, white Manolo knockoffs from Payless and the faux pearl drop earrings Daddy gave her for Christmas).

She approaches the quad prepared for every grade of shunning the high school mindset can conjure. By her count, there are at least twelve varieties; this summer she's experienced eight of them. What she isn't prepared for is Lilly's voice calling, "Oh, Veronica Mars," from the corner table.

Her last hope, that the shunning will be non-verbal, or at least take place one on one, is dashed by the sight of Lilly surrounded by the usual suspects. Who all look damned puzzled as Veronica hesitates, then walks over. Cheer up, girls, she thinks. The water will be full of chum and cheap sandals any minute now. 

" _What_ am I going to do with you, Veronica Mars?" Lilly leans forward conspiratorially. 

"I don't know, but whatever you do, don't hide my body under the dunes at Dog Beach. They're roto-tilling it this week. Just a suggestion." Without checking in with her brain, Veronica's mouth has apparently decided to go down swinging.

There's a titter of laughter from the table, although Veronica can't tell who's responsible. Shelley Pomeroy looks annoyed, Madison Sinclair looks revolted and Meg Manning, who, like Veronica, is here to get ahead and unlike Veronica was fully accepted into oh-ninerville from day one, looks… sort of amused, actually.

As does Lilly, who laughs and says, "Do you have the schedule for all the beaches? It might come in handy some day."

"I can email you," Veronica says weakly, and starts to back away. Maybe she'll get out of this alive after all.

"That's a good idea," says Lilly. "And I'll email you back and tell you how many times Duncan asked about you this weekend. It was Veronica this and Veronica that. God, he's such a pain in the ass."

Veronica feels her face heat up and waits for the inevitable follow through: how worried Lilly is about her brother, who appears to have gone insane, or who, like every other horn dog in Neptune, knows a sure thing when he sees one. 

"I had to promise him you'd come back over to work on our project just to shut him up. How about this afternoon?"

Veronica can feel the table hold its collective breath as her mouth, which has now completely seceded from the union, says, "I'll have my girl call your girl. Beyoncé's in town, but I'm pretty sure I can fit you in."

Lilly grins and says, "You'll be glad I caught you before that bitch got her hooks in you. She's such a total bore." She hops off the table. "Let's get to class early, shall we? Maybe we can give Mr. Sullivan a heart attack. I bet we could totally talk the substitute into giving us all 'A's to keep us from cracking up and suing the school for pain and suffering."

Veronica walks up the stairs beside Lilly, fully conscious of Madison and Shelley behind them. She can't decide if the target on her back has gotten broad side of the barn obvious, or is now shielded by a force far stronger than the collected works of one dead, noir stylist: the approval of the most popular girl in school.

***

During Veronica's second ride ever in a chauffeured town car, Lilly chats up a storm, giggling and gossiping and critiquing Veronica's outfit ("Sweetie, surely you've heard of push up bras? You're not even trying."). It's a stark contrast to the sullen, quiet ride they shared just last Friday.

Once parked by the pool, work on the story takes the form of Veronica transcribing while Lilly acts out most of the parts. The believability of her sexy chanteuse with a heart of gold isn't surprising, but she also gives menacing life to the cigar-chomping mob boss and a tender take on the naïve Kansas farm boy looking for his lost love on the mean streets of Hollywood. Veronica fills in the hardboiled narrator and edits Lilly's fatal addiction to run-on sentences while Lilly gets a refill on their pitcher of lemonade. Veronica turned down the offer to spike it with a little Grey Goose from the freezer while Manuelita's back is turned; she hopes Lilly was listening.

Absorbed by trying to spell 'garrote,' Veronica jumps a bit when Lilly thunks the pitcher down on the glass table and says, "Duncan's gone down to Baja for the week with Logan and Dick."

Veronica blinks at this non-sequitur. "Okay."

"So if you were planning to accidentally on purpose run into him here, you can forget it." While inside the house, Lilly has picked up a pair of sunglasses and a really bad mood.

To her surprise, Veronica realizes she hasn't thought of Duncan since she and Lilly got in the car. Anticipation at seeing him again was swallowed whole by Lilly's boundless enthusiasm for slagging various teachers, her plans to revamp Veronica's wardrobe and conjuring the most dramatic way for their Kansas innocent to meet her sad, sad end on the Sunset Strip. "I'm… I hope they have a good time," Veronica says to her reflection in the mirrored shades. Then adds hopefully, "Do you know how to spell 'garroted?' I think it sounds better than 'strangled.'"

"May I ask what's going on?"

Veronica whips around. Lilly sinks deeper into her chair and crosses her arms. The woman standing in the doorway is tastefully dressed in cream linen and pearls that are so not faux. Veronica's kneejerk response to authority kicks in and she says, "We're working on a story for English class. Hi, uh, hello. I'm Veronica," then feels abashed. She needs more work on that response than she does on her wardrobe. She's certain Lilly will give her an earful about sucking up later.

"Veronica?" 

"Mars," Lilly says. "As in, little green men from."

"As in Sheriff Mars?" 

Veronica nods.

"Ah." The woman purses her lips. "Are you perhaps following in your father's footsteps? We don't often have conversations about garroting in this house."

"That's what you think," Lilly mutters under her breath.

"Lillian Kane, I have asked you to do one simple thing this week and I will not stand for this attitude. I know you wanted to join your brother but I'll thank you to remember that trips to the Baja house are a reward for the kind of stellar behavior he has exhibited all year. If you weren't so stubbornly obtuse and hadn't fallen behind on so many of your classes, you could have--"

"Excuse me," Veronica says. "And you are?"

Icy green eyes turn in her direction. "I beg your pardon?"

"My mother always taught me that polite introductions go both ways." Veronica's mouth, having enjoyed its earlier liberation, has now apparently decided to become a rogue state in the family of nations. 

"Your mother." Something changes in the woman's face. "Why of course, you're correct." She gives Veronica a chilly smile. "I'm Celeste Kane, Duncan and Lilly's mother. _So_ nice to meet you, Veronica. And how is dear Lianne? We don't see her at the club very often these days. But then, cocktail hour there does start terribly late."

Before Veronica can push away from the table, Lilly leaps from her chair and drapes her arms around her mother's neck. "God, club talk is sooo boring," she whines. "Can't we get back to our story? You're always bugging me about getting better grades, and this way I get to have fun and pass English too. Daddy will be so proud of me, you know he will. Please?" 

Veronica notes the way Mrs. Kane stiffens in her daughter's embrace. "Very well, Lilly, but you are still going to work on the Junior League fundraiser this week. You will make a good impression on Mrs. Pomeroy and you will agree to wear anything she chooses for you to wear for the charity fashion show."

Lilly leans in and gives her mother a kiss on the cheek. "Of course, Mommy. Junior Miss Junior League, that's me. Peter Pan collars and white gloves will never look so glam."

Celeste Kane gives a long suffering sigh, peels her daughter's arms from around her neck, says, "Such a pleasure meeting you, Veronica. Please don't let Lilly keep you here too late," and walks back into the house.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Veronica calls after her, watching Lilly's shoulders slump as she sinks back into her chair.

Veronica looks down at the scribbled over page of notebook paper and wonders if it's too late to change the mob boss's gender. She uses unnecessary force to cross out one of the 'r's in garroted. It still doesn't look right, but she feels better. After a strained silence, she says, "Maybe we should have the chanteuse and the farm girl team up to bring down the mob boss instead of letting the farm boy have all the fun." She looks up to see Lilly's face raised to the sky. She's swallowing hard.

Finally Lilly removes her sunglasses and gives Veronica a watery smile. "The farm girl lives, then."

Veronica nods. "Maybe she's hiding out. Maybe she's changed her identity. The mob boss will never see them coming."

Lilly's natural flair is slowly re-emerging. "Ooh, a twist. Unexpected." She gets up and glides across the pool deck, presumably considering how to play a farm girl with a hidden agenda.

"Besides," Veronica muses. "If it's two women seeking revenge, we can make the murder weapon poison. I know for sure how to spell that."

***

Being popular is exhausting. Veronica is still learning to pick her way through a maze of loyalties, jealousies and petty grievances that go back to grade school. Who knew that while she and her outcast classmates were learning long division, Lilly's crowd was learning the fine art of combining full frontal flattery with a well-placed knife in the back? In three short weeks, she's heard enough gossip from Lilly's "friends" about Celeste Kane (social climber extraordinaire), Jake Kane (jumped up geek who got lucky), Duncan Kane (a little too good to be true, don't you think?) and Lilly herself (so many self-serving drama queen moments… possibly chemically induced?) to keep the outcasts chattering for weeks.

For her part, Lilly has the best dirt imaginable on the Echolls clan, the Pomeroys, the Sinclairs, and every oh-niner in between. Veronica isn't surprised to learn that Lilly knows perfectly well what's being said about her behind her back. They amuse themselves by making up a thinly veiled cast of characters for their imaginary Hollywoodland, a venal bunch with too much money and too little conscience and way too much time on their hands.

Veronica spends most of her time in oh-niner territory with her ears open and her mouth shut. She stores up information and keeps an eye on anyone who might make a more overt attack on Lilly. Lilly's matter of fact inclusion of Veronica in the inner circle has placed her in the Neptune High version of a shark cage, impervious to attack. The upclose view is both intriguing and terrifying and, Veronica admits, a total thrill. 

She doesn't kid herself. She's getting sucked in, little by little, to a lifestyle her parents could never support, one her innate honesty calls bullshit on over and over again. That doesn't mean she isn't enjoying the best summer _ever_. Having a friend who's rich is fun. Having a friend who's rich and generous should be against the law. 

"Promise me you'll wear it."

"Maybe when I'm thirty-five."

"Don't make me have to force you to be fabulous, Veronica Mars. Because you know I can."

Veronica looks at herself in the full-length mirror. The dramatic, black halter dress gapes tragically at the sides and clashes like whoa with her baby blue Keds But she has to admit, head on and from the ankles up, she _is_ fabulous.

"And these," Lilly says, "are what sets it off best. Pull up your hair." She drapes a strand of pearls around Veronica's neck. They look horrifyingly like Celeste's.

"No, Lilly, you're crazy."

"Diamond earrings, then."

"No, Lilly--" Veronica turns from the mirror and catches Lilly as she lifts her jewelry box from the dresser.

They playfully wrestle each other for the box and, with shrieks of laughter, watch it tumble to the rug, scattering a few expensive pieces and a mass of costume beads and chandelier earrings on the way down. It lands on its side and grinds out a few bars of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."

"You don't have to give me anything you know," Veronica says to Lilly's reflection in the mirror. They're sitting on the end of the bed while they catch their breath. 

Lilly begins to pick earrings off the rug and hold them up to Veronica's ears, considering with the utmost concentration how each pair works with the dress. "I know."

"At all. Seriously."

"I know that, too."

"We're going to get an 'A' on the story, I think."

"Mr. Sullivan is doomed. I'm betting on a stroke at the very least." 

Lilly gets up to rummage around the dresser, then comes back to the bed and drapes the awful pink boa around Veronica's neck. Veronica leans back on her hands and lets Lilly pull up her hair and begin twisting it into an elegant coil. Huh, she thinks. Baby blue, pink and black really don't go together at _all_.

"Do you think Logan Echolls is cute?" Lilly says, around a mouthful of rhinestone-studded hairpins.

"What? No! Well, sort of-- wait a minute. I thought you couldn't stand him."

"Hmm," says Lilly.

"Lilly Kane, he's a nut. He's completely out of control. And," Veronica puts down the hammer. "He's younger than you."

"He's a good kisser, though."

"Lilly!" Veronica turns her head, only to have it firmly turned back toward the mirror.

"What? Besides, can you imagine if I showed up with the son of, of all un-classy things, a B-list movie star? My mother--"

"Would die. Yes, I know." Veronica submits to the enormous, sparkling hoop earrings Lilly has decided on. "Un-classy isn't a word."

"It should be. Have you ever seen their house?"

"Did I tell you my idea for the last day of school? Actually, the last lunch period." Veronica is ready for a subject change, but she has to be very careful here. Despite Lilly's knowledge of how flimsy and fitful her friends' loyalties are, what Veronica has in mind might not go over well.

She underestimates Lilly, not for the first or last time. After only a brief outline of The Plan, Lilly has slipped to the floor and is leaning against Veronica's knee, having laughed herself into a coughing fit. "How do you know the wind will change?"

"It always does this time of year. Onshore to offshore by the middle of July. Haven't you noticed how it's stopped being foggy early in the morning?"

"Haven't you noticed I'm barely awake early in the morning?"

"That's what you have me for, Kemosabe. I'm your loyal scout."

"Scout, schmout. You've never brought me any cookies. Why should I believe you?"

"Not that kind of scout. I'm the subtle kind. The ninja kind. I'm like the wind."

"That turns from offshore to onshore."

"Other way around."

"Whatever." Lilly sits up and turns to face Veronica. "So all we have to do is put the cans of sardines down behind the railing at the top of the quad? You really think the seagulls will fly in for it?"

"I _know_ they will. Trust me. We wait till everyone's at the table and then we open the cans. If you leave smoked fish for them, they will come."

"If anyone finds out I knew about this, I might not be able to bluff us out of it."

"How much do you think my life will be worth if they find out it was my idea?"

They regard each other solemnly. Lilly holds up her hand, pinkie extended. Veronica hooks hers around it and they shake. They break into a fit of giggles that carries them both back down to lie flat on the rug. 

"Too bad it's not winter," Lilly says. "Bird shit is hell on cashmere."

After more giggling and a few moments of contented silence, Lilly says, "Do you really promise you'll wear it?"

"What? Cashmere?"

Lilly pokes her in the ribs. "The dress, blondie. Keep up."

"I will. I promise."

"We're going to be legendary, you know. They won't know what hit them."

"I'm pretty sure they'll figure it out. Seagulls are kind of hard to miss when they're going after your Udon noodles."

"No, not them." Lilly gives an airy wave. "We've got bigger worlds to conquer than Neptune High, Veronica Mars. Are you in?"

Veronica reaches up and grabs Lilly's hand. "I'm in," she says. "For always."

***

**Author's Note:**

> Grateful thanks to the beta team: Anjou, Sarah Segretti and Marakara, for their support and useful critique. Not to mention for catching my silly errors and helping me sound coherent. Your VM kung fu is the best.
> 
> Lilly has always been a bit of a mystery to me -- not least, what it was about her that made Veronica such a loyal friend. Thanks to honeymink for the prompt, since it gave me the opportunity to explore Lilly's behavior and motivations, and made me love her more than I ever thought I would. 
> 
> Special thanks to Marakara, who inspired part of the final scene. She mentioned at the end of the second season that Veronica's black graduation dress looked so unlike the white one she wore in her dream, it might have belonged to Lilly. Mara claims the idea didn't originate with her, but her LJ is where I read it. Whoever came up with the idea, I liked it.


End file.
